The Man Who Makes People Better
by LS of ACO
Summary: A disillusioned former companion of a future Doctor speaks to the Doctor's new companion about the true dangers of the traveling life.


**Author's Note: I'm not really sure what this is... Every time I try to write this as an actual scene it falls apart, so I just churned it out as a monologue before it faded, because I realized I would probably never be able to write the story it goes with to my satisfaction. The story would have been one of conflict between a future incarnation of the Doctor and a future companion, who, as Martha would put it, stood too close and got burned. This is a monologue version of part of one of his conversations with the companion who took his place at the Doctor's side, in which he explains how he has come to see the Doctor. Like I said, I'll probably never write the story, but I hope that this can sort of stand on its own.**

Can't you feel his grasping little fingers on your soul? No? Well neither can he. He doesn't even know he's doing it anymore. Maybe he never did. It's just his nature, their nature. He talks a lot about human nature, doesn't he? Because it fascinates him. Well, now I'm going to tell you something about Time Lord nature, because that fascinates _me_; and terrifies me.

One day, little girl, you are going to wake up and find that he owns you, body and mind, heart and soul. You'll be his as completely as that poor time beast he lives in. And do you know something? He. Still. Won't. Care. Because he can't. He doesn't know what it means to care. _That's_ what fascinates him about humans so much; we really feel what he only tries so hard to pretend that he does. Oh, he's very good at pretending. God knows he fooled me for long enough. I daresay he even fools himself, most of the time. But if you'd been with him longer, if you'd met more of them, you'd understand. He's not human. I know that you know that, it's obvious after a while even if he doesn't go bragging about it, but you don't really understand what it means. I see it in your eyes. You look at him like he's human, you think of him like he's human. You love him like he's human. But he's not, and he never will be, and he never can be, because that's not a human mind in his ever-changing head, and those aren't human emotions that run through it.

He's very, very good at giving the illusion of common ground, because he's so brilliant and he wants it so badly, wants to feel how we feel instead of how his people feel, but that's all it is: an illusion. I daresay you've seen it in his eyes, just once or twice, just for a moment, maybe when he thought you weren't looking; and it goes by so fast, he goes straight from that to his ridiculous infectious laughter, and you push it out of your mind because he seems alright again, and he helps you push it out. But you know what I'm talking about. Sometimes the curtain comes up a little bit, when he's feeling too many Time Lord emotions to project human ones anymore, and you see him for who he really is. Have you forgotten that "the Doctor" is just a title? And one that he gave himself, at that. That's who he wishes he could be, the man with human emotions, Time Lord powers, and an indomitable spirit. The man who makes people better. "The Doctor" is just a mantra in his head, telling himself that he's making things better, making people better, by doing what he does to them. It's just as much an alias as John Smith is. It's just another mask. He has a real name; and he also has a real self beneath all these affectations of humanity. In those moments, when his eyes change like that, you see the real him, the alien with a name no one knows.

He loves us. I don't deny that. I think that's probably the truest thing that can be said about him, except maybe that he hates himself. He hates himself for so many reasons; because of what he did to his race, and what he didn't, and for being a part of it in the first place, and for all the people and planets he's saved, and all those he hasn't. He's gone mad, being so alone. He's been alone for a very long time. And no, we don't count, we never count, that's an illusion like his humanity. We don't even count like dogs, like pets, because we're so much further below him than that; we're more like pet rocks, or imaginary friends lonely children take out of books. I doubt you know what I'm talking about, never having seen another one, but I'm not the only one to have seen it. When the Master came back, there were others around him, his companions at the time, and they saw it in his eyes, what it meant to him to really be not alone for the first time in so long. Because without the rest of his kind, he sees all of it, feels responsible for all of it. Personally, I think the Time Vortex is slowly working its way into his head with no one else to see it, driving him mad. He's been getting more powerful recently, hasn't he? Haven't you ever seen him do something, and then be even more surprised than you were that he was capable of that? The right of the Time Lords, the power, is growing out of his control, with no one else for it to fall to. And I think on some level he knows that, and he hates himself even more for it; that he isn't strong enough to cope with all of it, with all of everything, with the roar of the universe crashing down on him.

And he loves us because we're not like that. We don't have that burden, we don't see any of it, we barely even see what's right in front of our faces compared to him – he's got incredible vision, did you know that? And across a much wider spectrum than you or I. His other senses are different too, sharper. He keeps that quite hush-hush. When I first met him he even wore glasses, just to make himself seem a bit more mortal. Anyway. He loves us because he envies us, envies our freedom; and yes, I know, you feel like he's given you freedom. How can he not be free, flying wherever and whenever he wants, lording his intellect and birthright over everyone in the universe. But that's not the kind of freedom he wants, not really. He hides this well too, but he hates that big blue box more than the Daleks ever did. He wants the freedom to not do that, to not see the timelines, not be responsible for them, not have the weight of planets on his shoulders. To be ordinary. To be human.

That's why he takes us with him, you know. It's not to show us the stars, whatever he says; it's just so he can be around us, so he can see our humanity. So he can drink it up. And he does. We start to run out of it, in the end.

Tell me, have you caught yourself standing at the door yet, half asleep, looking out into the black, and just listening? You don't know what you're listening for, but you're starting to hear it. You think "almost, just a bit longer, I've almost got it, then I'll go back to bed." But you won't. When you finally do hear it, you'll try to jump out, only to be stopped by the shields, because it's the song of the universe you're hearing. We all hear it, after a while, everyone who travels with him. And when that happens, you won't be human anymore, not really; and he'll leave you, like he's left all of us. After he takes you and changes you into an even more broken version of what he hates to be, he'll drop you right back where he found you, maybe even in the same week, the same hour, and zip off again, that manic, carefree, fake smile on his face, to find his next victim.

And you'll be like him.

You won't be able to live a human life any more than he could, after what he's done to you. He'll have stolen it from you, leeched it off to try to catch a taste of it. And you'll be so, so alone, because there's no one else quite like you; you're not human anymore, so you're as alone with ordinary people as he is, and you haven't the skill to steal their souls from them like he does, vampire that he is. And you're not one of them, you're not like him, not really; you're a pale shadow of what they are. So you'd be alone with him still, even if he hadn't abandoned you. And you'll understand this, maybe not in your mind, but in your heart; but you'll still love him. You'll love him with all your heart, because he'll have stolen your heart and soul out of you.

All. Alone. Think about that. With no one else in the world like you, no one who sees what you see, no one who feels what you feel.

Except me.

So you run back to him now. Tell him what I said or not, as you see fit; I'm sure he knows how I feel, and none of this will help him stop me here. Run off and have your merry little adventures; burning away your humanity is quite a high. But you remember me, little girl. When you find yourself standing at the door one night, while he sleeps like a fitful stone after another insane day of running about and altering lives and drinking in alienness like a drug…when you find yourself staring out into the black, listening…remember me then. And if you know what's good for you, you'll tell him to take you home then and there. And he probably will; he was never one for keeping people against their will, only warping their will to whatever he wants it to be. I suppose he thinks that if you're strong enough to resist him, you have that right. And maybe there's something to that after all. But don't you dare ignore it, when that moment comes. Because after that…after that there's no turning back. And then you really _will_ be like me.

You don't want that, now do you?


End file.
